These Moments
by partners.in.crime03
Summary: A series of one-shots following the '100 Themes' challenge. Includes all genres, though mostly angst and humor, and most center around Shawn, but all characters are included. Now up: #27 Foreign... Shawn and Gus' trip to Mexico.
1. 22: Mother Nature

Juliet was supposed to be on her way home, but it appeared Mother Nature had other plans.

She calls it bad luck and he calls it fate. Either way, her car's broken down and she's dripping wet, and Shawn (just as soaked) had appeared out of nowhere. Her cell phone refuses to turn on, making her growl at it, and he stepped off of his bike, saying his was broken too. So why was he grinning like an idiot? She tucked her hair behind her ears, suddenly conscious of how she looked.

"It's good to see you, Jules," the psychic grinned widely, his hair stuck on end and looking slightly manic. "Do you need a ride, or something?"

She was about to turn him down, because riding with Shawn would mean riding on his _motorcycle_, and with her luck today, they'd probably crash, but she thought better. "...Yeah. Thank you, Shawn."

"No problem, Jules." He realized he only had one helmet, and offered it to her.

"Shawn..."

"It's okay," he assured her with an easy smile. "I'll drive really slow." She put her arms around his waist, not needing to see his face to know he was grinning (because she was basically hugging him). Even in the rain, he felt warm, so she hugged him a little tighter.

Juliet hadn't envisioned the highlight of her day as being rescued by Shawn Spencer, an unorthodox white knight, to say the least. He was calm and silent as they drove, a side to him she hadn't seen before, and one that intrigued her.

Shawn pulled into a side street as she directed him, pulling into her driveway and letting her step off the bike. "Thank you, Shawn," she repeated, handing him back his helmet.

"You're welcome," he smiled. "...You should probably get inside before you get sick," he advised in a gentlemanly fashion, as though he hadn't been out just as long as her.

Juliet frowned, now standing in her doorway. "Shawn, will you be alright? You can-" He could what? Come inside? As if that wouldn't be crossing every boundary she had so carefully erected around herself.

He sensed her discomfort, and said, "It's okay, Jules. I'm just going to head home."

"Oh. Okay."

She was torn between the comfort of her home and his company, and struck by a sudden impulse, leaned forward to catch his lips in hers. Juliet felt him tense, but he caught on quickly, deepening the kiss. Eyes still closed, she felt him smile, and she grabbed him by the collar and pulled him inside.

This morning had been hell, but this afternoon was looking pretty damn good.


	2. 15: Silence

Juliet quickly realized that Shawn was only quiet when he was unconscious, and sometimes not even then.

She raised one hand, letting her fingertips brush delicately across his forehead and leaving a small smear of blood near his hairline. She felt him shiver beneath her, a sign he was going into shock, and knew time was running out.

"C'mon, Spencer," Lassiter said, his voice a low growl as he pressed harder onto the gushing chest wound. "You're not dying on my watch." There was no response, no witty comment from the psychic, and their only reassurance that he was still hanging on was a wet, rasping breath.

Juliet could think of many times Shawn had interrupted her while she was working with some loud comment or prank on Lassiter, and as much as he amused her, sometimes she prayed for silence.

Now the silence was her biggest fear.

Another wet cough, and it seemed Shawn had come to, because he slurred, "Why're you cryin', Jules?"

She hadn't even noticed, and then a hot tear escaped before she could brush it away, falling and mixing with the blood on Shawn's forehead. "Like you don't know," she whispered teasingly, seeing the red that flecked his lips as he coughed again.

"I...I'm sorry," Shawn stuttered, flinching as Lassiter added pressure with a bear-like growl. He was losing the fight, he knew, his breaths coming short and softer, but he didn't want to worry them. He couldn't see their faces anymore, and he just wanted to see Jules one last time.

"Just hang on, Shawn. You'll be okay..." Juliet whispered encouragingly, though she wasn't sure who she was trying to convince.

"Jules...I'm sorry." He didn't see the alarm cross her face, or feel the tears hitting his shirt.

"Shawn..._Shawn_!"

"Dammit, Spencer, wake up...Shawn, wake up!"

The plea was met with silence.


	3. 28: Sorrow

He couldn't believe it. His best friend was gone.

Not just in the usual way, where Shawn and his father got into some pointless fight and the younger Spencer hopped onto his bike and headed for places unknown, sending a postcard from some new part of the world every once in a while. Gus could've dealt with that, _wished _that was what he was dealing with now, having done so before. If there had just been a fight, Gus would miss his friend terribly, curse Shawn for being so flighty (for running away again), but at least then he knew Shawn would come back eventually.

He wasn't coming back. The casket lowering into the ground promised as much, and Gus bit his lip, hoping the pain there might lessen the one lingering in his heart.

Henry Spencer was standing next to Gus on one side, Shawn's mother on the other, her wet tears soaking the shoulder of Gus' suit jacket. Chief Vick, Juliet and Lassiter were on the other side of the casket, the youngest blonde crying silently and the head detective standing stiffly in his dress uniform. While he'd made it no secret that the faux psychic annoyed him, Gus knew he wished things had turned out differently.

Things wouldn't be the same without Shawn. Juliet would be depressed and Lassiter would be grumpier than usual, Henry would be blaming everyone, including himself, and Gus...well, how did one survive without their best friend?

Shawn was supposed to be there, alive and standing in front of him. He was supposed to drag Gus along on crazy adventures, to be Gus' best man if he ever found someone to marry. He was supposed to annoy Lassiter and charm Juliet, help the SBPD solve cases and be a general pain to his father.

"Gus..." Henry addressed him quietly, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder and startling him. "Gus, it's time to go."

Was it? The young man listened, realizing everyone else had gone but unable to tear his eyes away from the casket holding his best friend. Shawn had always taken too many risks, had even joked that he wouldn't live past thirty, and Gus never thought he would be right. Had always hoped he _wouldn't_ be.

The sun was shining brilliantly through the tall oaks in the cemetery, and it almost seemed wrong. The service had been quiet and peaceful, and so unlike Shawn, and the weight of it all hit Gus mercilessly.

Shawn wasn't coming back, and Gus didn't know if he could deal with that.


	4. 31: Flowers

Juliet wasn't sure which bouquet he'd like best.

There were flower bouquets in every color imaginable, in all sizes and arrangements, and she had no idea which would look best by Shawn's grave. Would the roses be best, or did the daisies suit him better? Maybe she should go with something a little less traditional, and if so, that still left dozens of varieties. What about color? Probably not pink, and she figured purple wouldn't be best either. Would he like yellow ones? God, she was hopeless.

It was over a week now since the funeral, and it was the first time she had the nerve to go see him since. Of course, at the rate she was going, it would be another week before she got to the cemetery. Every flower arrangement she saw made the decision that much harder, and she was starting to wonder if the bouquet was the real problem. Maybe she was just afraid.

Pondering the decision, the young detective concluded there were way too many choices. She wasn't sure he'd even want flowers anyway, so Juliet gave up and headed to the nearest grocery store. She picked out the best pineapple she could find, just the way Shawn had taught her to, and then spied a sunflower, buying that as well (because he deserved both, really, and there hadn't been as many choices to confuse her). Throwing both in the passenger seat, she drove to the cemetery...

The place was impossible sunny, though she knew Shawn would've liked that. It was beautiful, really, though she hadn't appreciated that on the day he'd been buried, with rays of light filtering through the tree branches sheltering Shawn's grave. The place was obviously well taken care of.

She set the sunflower down without a second thought, placing it carefully in front of the headstone with all the other flowers that had accumulated there over the past week. After a moment's hesitation, she set the pineapple down next to it, her eyes glazing over the epitaph.

'Shawn Henry Spencer

April 4, 1977-August 21, 2007

Beloved son and friend

Gone, but not forgotten'


	5. 27: Foreign

The Mexican bar room was dark and crowded, the only light coming from a few yellowed overhead lights, and the smoky atmosphere was enough to make Gus feel suffocated. He was already regretting succumbing so easily to his best friend's incessant begging, and could just imagine all the crazy things that could (and probably would) happen before Shawn decided their trip was over. If the excess of empty shot glasses lined up in front of Shawn was any indicator, it was going to be a hell of a night.

"Whenever you're ready, Gus. It'll be fun."

"Shawn, I already told you, I am _not_ doing the Running of the Bulls, and there's no way—"

"Now, Gus, would it kill you to live in the moment every once in a while?"

"Actually, I think it could. Living in the moment? Shawn, this is crazy," Gus hissed, casting a wary glance around them. "We need to get out of here. Why can't we just go home?"

"But we just got here!" Shawn slurred loudly, tipping dangerously on his bar stool. "It's all part of the college experience, buddy."

"You're not _in_ college, Shawn, and we got here hours ago!" He snatched away a filled shot glass that was making its way towards Shawn's lips. "And I think you've had enough. We don't speak Spanish, and I have no idea what these people are saying!" At his outburst, a few sniggers could be heard, and Gus lowered his voice with a sigh. "I think it's time we took you home."

"To Santa Barbara, buddy?"

Gus rolled his eyes. "I was thinking more the roach motel down the street. You know, the one you checked us into?" With a single bed, no less, not that they could've afforded much else. Sometimes Gus swore Shawn went out of his way to embarrass him, since Shawn himself didn't seem to have shame.

Suddenly Shawn seemed much more lucid, and he grabbed Gus' sleeve and dragged him towards the door. "I have a great idea, Gus! Follow me!"

Gus watched his friend stagger out of the bar, following close on his heels. "Shawn, it's nothing illegal, right? I'm not breaking the law." He knew Shawn had heard him, so the lack of response was worrying. Gus ran to his friend's side, punching him in the shoulder to show his aggravation and enjoying the way Shawn winced. "If we get caught, I don't know you. You realize that, right?"

Shawn grinned lopsidedly. "So long as you pay my bail."

"I said nothing illegal, Shawn! I'm not spending another night in a Mexican prison," Gus insisted firmly, shivering as he thought back to the last time that had happened. Apparently Shawn remembered too, because he laughed raucously.

"You're right, because last time you cried like a little girl," he snickered.

"I already told you, the dust in the cell was aggravating my allergies," Gus said matter-of-factly, scowling at his best friend. "You know how I tear up during allergy season."

Shawn groaned. Gus was definitely a buzz kill. "Actually, Gus, I don't. I don't think you really have allergies. Why is it your allergies seem to kick in whenever you're around scary guys? You didn't start crying until we got thrown in with those huge guys, Ripper and, a…"

"Assassin," Gus finished for him quickly. Too quickly, judging by the infuriating smirk on Shawn's face. "Where are we going?"

"It's a surprise," Shawn said, throwing him an impish grin.

"If it has anything to do with bulls or harassing Border Patrol, I'll kill you, Shawn," Gus warned, jogging next to his friend. "You know I'm serious."

"Sure thing, buddy. I learned my lesson last time," he promised, Gus skeptical of the truth to that statement. "And besides, you don't have enough alcohol in you for that yet. I thought we'd start off slow and ease into things…" Start off slow? That didn't sound like Shawn. "I threw a few firecrackers into your trunk before we drove down here. We'll light 'em up and see if anything sets on fire…" That, however, did sound like him.

"Shawn…"

"Nothing illegal," Shawn promised.

"Nothing illegal? You're talking about arson."

"What's a little arson among friends? Besides, what happens in Mexico, stays in Mexico, buddy," Shawn grinned, a sense of foreboding coming over Gus as a beer was shoved into his hand. "You'd do well to remember that." Shawn took off at a run, expecting Gus to follow (because he always did). "C'mon, Gus, it'll be fun!"

How many times had Gus heard that before? "He'll be the death of me…" Gus muttered, taking a slug from his beer and thinking of all that could transpire. Judging by the little Shawn had told him (and past experience), that could involve running from the law, drunken one-night-stands, committing arson with his best friend…But then again, you only lived once, and what a way to go. "Shawn, wait up!"

It was going to be a hell of a night, and suddenly he couldn't wait.


End file.
